28. Bash #2
Deep down, I know our situation is not sustainable. Holding out. Hiding it. Keeping everyone happy. But this is the first time I’ve faced that fact head-on staring at the son I barely know.
“Hey. Sorry to drop in unannounced again.” His lips twitch into a sheepish smile.
I clear my throat, searching for words that aren’t what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?
“No, it’s fine. You just caught me by surprise. You still got my number?”
“I know, I know. But I’m actually not here to see you.”
My jaw pops as he carries on. “Remember how you told me I’d be willing to grovel when I knew it was right? Well, I’ve been thinking about it a bunch, and I think that it might be right with Gwen.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, she…” He looks over my property with a disbelieving laugh. “She wouldn’t even give me the time of day last time. And I want to give her a chance to see how good we could be.”
I try not to grimace. This fool doesn’t want Gwen. He just can’t handle her rejection. But I don’t tell him that, and he takes my silence as an opportunity to welcome himself into my house.
“Is she awake? I wanted to make sure I spoiled her first thing.”
“Yeah.” If cuffing him upside the head didn’t make me an asshole, I would do it.
That’s my plan. Back off .
But I don’t stop him. How can I?
Sorry, Tripp. I’m obsessed with your ex, and I have been since I first laid eyes on her. And now you need to leave because you’re ruining my shot with her.
I can’t think of a single way to phrase this that doesn’t sound fucking awful. So I watch in dismay as he toes off his shoes and heads straight for the kitchen, where Gwen and Clyde’s voices drift out.
His hulking form disappears around the corner, and I inhale a few of the deep breaths Gwen taught us in yoga. I could use a quick Zen moment if I’m about to walk in there and deal with this shit.
When I finally brave the kitchen, my eyes go straight to the small gift bag and the impressive vase of roses sitting smugly on the countertop next to the lavender I chose. My flowers look scraggly in comparison, and an unwelcome pang of inadequacy twists in my chest.
I shake it off, opting to focus on Gwen.
Gwen, who looks downright uncomfortable. And Clyde, who looks one second away from beating Tripp to death with the cast-iron skillet still sitting on the stove.
“I just can’t stop thinking about you,” Tripp says, facing Gwen with his back to me. “I just think we could give this a go, and you’d see everything you’ve been missing out on.”
I cringe. I want to like the kid, but goddamn, he is just so young and clueless . And so entitled. Talking to her like she’s stupid for passing him up.
Gwen’s gaze flashes over his shoulder to meet mine. I hold it, letting her see that even though he’s here, I’m not leaving this time.
I can’t. Walking away almost killed me before. Now, I feel more desperate than ever for her to see me.
It’s true—I don’t want to get hurt. But nothing would hurt more than missing my chance with Gwen.
“Tripp,” she says, finally moving her gaze back to him. “Thank you for your honesty. But these gifts are not necessary. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be when I tell you I’ve moved on.”
He scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “What? You’re dating someone else?”
“Not exactly.” Her eyes shift to me, then back to him. “Not yet.”
“But you want to?” Ire tinges his voice now, like her interest in anyone else is a personal slight to him.
“Tripp,” she says, calm but firm, “we were very casual for a very short time. We haven’t spoken in a year. So you have to forgive me for feeling like this newfound dedication is out of left field.”
“Yeah, well, when it’s right, you just know.” He tips his chin and crosses his arms. “Open the present. Tell me if this other guy can top that.”
She grimaces but reaches for the bag. From behind her Clyde mouths, I hate him .
My lips flatten to keep from mouthing Same . Because right now, I do too. For putting her on the spot like this and taking advantage of her kind nature, forcing her to open a gift that she’s been clear about not wanting.
And for making me watch it all go down.
Her fingers tear away the paper, revealing a square, black velvet box.
She hesitates, glancing at each of us in turn.
There’s a flicker of nerves in her eyes, and a part of me wants to swoop in and put a stop to this.
The other part of me doesn’t want to overstep and blow everything up on her birthday.
When she clicks it open, her eyes bug out for a minute, and then they shutter.
“I can’t accept this, Tripp.”
When she holds the box out, I catch sight of a diamond tennis bracelet, the light in the house making it almost blinding to look at.
“Sure you can. It’s perfect for you.”
She closes the box and pushes it across the island as far as her arm will stretch.
“Tripp, that’s not perfect for me. That right there is proof that you don’t know me at all.
You telling me to keep my shoes on at your party is proof that you don’t know me at all.
You thinking there could be anything between us at all now that I know your stories about your dad being a deadbeat are not true is proof that you don’t know me at all. ”
Tripp freezes, all the color draining from his skin as his expression morphs before my eyes. He looks genuinely shaken, and alarm bells sound in my head. “Gwen, you don’t know?—”
She gives him her palm as she stands. “No, don’t tell me how to think, feel, or behave. It pisses me off.”
I can’t see Tripp’s expression, but based on his rigid shoulders, I’m going to guess it’s a blend of shocked and furious.
“Nice of you to do this in front of everyone.”
Gwen barks out a dry, disbelieving laugh as she steps away from him. “You’re the one who keeps showing up unannounced, putting me on the spot, and forcing the issue with other people around. Please, for both our sakes, just stop.”
“And you won’t even give me a fucking chance to?—”
“You know what?” I cut him off. “That’s enough. Tripp, take a walk. Cool off. Go put your feet in the sand or something. We have somewhere to be, and the clock is ticking.”
“ We? ” he asks incredulously.
I hold my shoulders tight, not backing down, not letting him make this awkward. Because I’m too pissed off to pat his back right now. “Yup. It’s her birthday. Pick a different day to do this. Or better yet, don’t. Want me to walk you out?”
Gwen turns to me now. Her wide eyes and slightly parted full lips suggest she can’t believe I just kicked him out of my house.
Tripp snatches up the flowers and the bracelet, spins on his heel, and stalks out of the room, muttering, “Un-fucking-believable. Both of you.”
His departure leaves a deafening silence in the kitchen.